


Stumble Upon Your Diamonds

by JhanaMay



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay/pseuds/JhanaMay
Summary: Completely self-indulgent outtake on Alec and Magnus' first time from 2x07 and 2x18 told from Alec's POV.Warning, it's written in first-person POV for those who hate that kind of thing.Title is from this quote by C. JoyBell C.  "As the earth dies your spirit will bloom; as the world fades your soul will rise and glisten. Amongst the dehydrated crevices of a desert earth you will stumble upon your diamonds; in between the dry skulls and cracked bones you will find your sapphires."
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

I almost hit the emergency stop button a dozen times in the minute it takes for the lavishly appointed elevator to travel from the lobby to the top floor. The nearly imperceptible vibration of movement travels up through the thick soles of my boots to merge with the restless nerves jittering under my skin. With every passing floor, my heart skips faster, and my hands tremble harder than they did the first time I drew back a bowstring. I can stay calm and detached during the worst battle situations, but this is nothing like sighting down the length of an arrow while a demon tries to disembowel me or someone I care about. 

This is way worse. 

The elevator whooshes to a stop and the doors slide open with only a whisper of sound. It’s a half dozen steps to the apartment, but my feet are rooted to the floor. I clench and unclench my hands, trying to make the shaking stop, and I’m still cataloging the nearly infinite ways this could go wrong when the doors begin to close.

With a burst of speed, I slip between them and cover the final distance before I can second-guess myself even more. 

Izzy’s words echo in my head. _Just don’t do what you always do._

It’s not like I needed her to remind me. I know I’m the cautious one, the one who analyzes and plans and makes sure every possible contingency is thought of before we ever step out of the Institute. That’s how I make sure everyone comes back from a mission in one piece—including my sometimes reckless sister and parabatai. 

It’s also how I’ve protected the secret I’ve been hiding all these years… overthinking things is a survival skill.

But this isn’t a mission. I can plan for how a demon or a rogue Downworlder might act when cornered, but Magnus throws me off-balance without even trying. Even if I could predict his reaction, I have no idea what comes next. Being bonded to Jace, I’m not completely innocent, but the details escape me—especially when it comes to what happens between two men. I just know I want to find out. 

Before I can freak out and run back to the Institute, I take a deep breath and deliver three sharp raps to the door. It only takes a few erratic heartbeats for Magnus to open it.

“Hey,” Magnus says, a smile spreading across his beautiful face as soon as his dark eyes land on me. A silver cuff hugs his ear and his eyeliner glints with fine glitter. It makes his eyes even more gorgeous, and a jolt of desire spears through me. 

I push past him without returning the greeting, slipping my jacket off and folding it across the low cabinet behind the door. Anticipation and anxiety make my pulse sing, and I look nervously around the apartment. “Jace here?”

“No. He left hours ago.” Worry creases Magnus’ brow. “Are you okay?”

Before Magnus can derail the plan I’ve been working myself up to for the last hour, I dive forward and cup his cheeks. I press our mouths together with no finesse at all, trying to put everything I can’t say into the kiss. Wanting and waiting, all my hopes and fears. Magnus has been an expert at reading me since the first time we met, and I desperately hope he knows exactly what I mean now.

For one glorious moment, Magnus returns the pressure, and I’m optimistic that it will be just this easy. His lips taste of whatever sugary drink he’d been drinking before I arrived, and I breathe in the scent of sandalwood that always surrounds him. The unfamiliar—and utterly addictive—heat that simmers every time I’m around him rouses low in my gut. Now that I’ve felt what he kindles inside me, I don’t know how I ever mistook my feelings for Jace as anything but brotherly love. 

To my horror, though, Magnus almost instantly goes stiff and pulls away with an uncomfortable laugh, his hands coming up to press against my chest like a barrier. “Hey, what’s this all about? I mean, I’m not complaining, but—” 

My face burns. “I–I just thought, you know, I thought we could take the next step.” 

Magnus studies me for a moment in that way that always makes me feel like he can lay my secrets bare with no effort at all. After a beat, understanding crosses his face and he squeezes my shoulders. “The sex step.”

“Yeah”

“Alexander.” He sighs, and his hands smooth over my chest, still a barrier but a gentler one. His words are soothing but regretful. “I may be experienced, but it’s rare that I’ve ever felt this way about someone and… I worry that once we—” He turns as if he needs to hide his face from me, his back a line of tension. 

Embarrassment floods through me, and an icy chill completely extinguishes the desire that had been coiling in my gut. I’d been so sure Magnus wanted this as much as I do, but clearly, I misread things. Overthought things. Again. 

Magnus is still talking, his words cutting through the white noise in my ears. “That if we rush into this—” He turns to face me again, his voice soft and hesitant in a way that Magnus almost never is. “That I may lose you,” he murmurs, wary eyes studying my face as if even he isn’t sure what he’ll find this time.

I’m momentarily stunned. “What? Why would you think that?” I blurt. Doesn’t he know how utterly enraptured I am? That I’ve never felt this way about anyone before? 

“Look,” Magnus says, his dark eyes still searching mine, “you’re not the only one that feels vulnerable.”

The reality of what he’s saying dawns on me. Despite his centuries of experience, Magnus is just as nervous about this as I am. The thought makes me grin. “Magnus,” I say, starting toward him, “you have nothing to worry about. I want this.” 

When my mouth meets his again, his lips are already curving into a smile. His hands tighten on my biceps, but not to push me away. There’s more strength in his slender body than seems possible, and he clings to me as he lets me walk him backward into the bedroom. His hands come up to press against my neck, the passion from earlier re-igniting. 

I’ve been in Magnus’ bedroom before, even slept in his bed, but this is different. We stumble through the door, laughing and kissing. I push the door shut behind me, then nearly lose my balance reaching down to push one of my boots off. Magnus chuckles, catching my arms to hold me steady, and his laughter is almost as intoxicating as his mouth on mine.

His lips trail across my cheekbone, breath hot and wet against my skin, before he tugs at the neck of my t-shirt. I quickly pull it over my head then go to work pushing his jacket off his shoulders, the sudden need to feel his skin against mine blotting out everything else.

Magnus’ bed stretches out in front of us, the opulent covers rumpled, but before my nerves can set in and derail us, he cups my face in his hands and falls, dragging me down with him. I twist with the momentum and land on my back, Magnus’ weight pinning me to the mattress. 

“That was graceful,” he says with a grin. He leans over me and the movement presses his body into mine. It’s a shock—though a gratifying one—to feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against me, but I’m not sure if he means for me to feel it. We’ve done our share of making out, and I know Magnus is so much more experienced, yet he’s never pressured me. I’ve actually wondered at times whether he even wants me in that way.

There’s no doubt now.

“Shadowhunter,” I point out, my voice so ragged and breathy that I almost don’t recognize it.

He smiles down at me. “Oh—”

I cut him off by wrapping my hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down to me. His skin is hot and the fine hairs at his nape tickle my fingers. There’s no hesitation as he sinks into me, his mouth immediately opening on mine, and he rolls his hips again. This time the motion is so slow and deliberate that there’s no mistaking his intention. The friction against my cock, even through the layers of fabric, generates waves of pleasure so intense they threaten to drown me.

The cool metal of his necklaces trails across my chest in a sensual caress as he traces my lips with his tongue. My hands slip down to find the hem of his shirt. The fabric bunches in my grip as I push it up to touch warm bare skin, and he draws in a sharp breath against my lips. Tracing my fingertips over the bumps of his ribs, I push the shirt higher, wanting it gone and all that gorgeous skin naked against me. 

Suddenly, he jerks away, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeeze shut as if he’s in pain and he turns away.

I inhale sharply, anxiety returning. “What? Am I doing something wrong?”

He makes a dismissive gesture. “No such thing.” But he doesn’t turn around.

My heart continues to race, but now it’s with fear. “Well…” I sit up, my hands curled in the sheets to keep myself from reaching for him. The fear that he’s humoring me creeps back in. “What—do you not want to?”

“No. I mean, yes. Of course, I do.”

He’s still not looking at me, but I can’t stop myself from laying my hand on his back—if only to quell my own panic. “Magnus, what is it?”

“It’s just, sometimes… I lose control.” He turns, and it takes me a moment to notice that his normally dark eyes are gold and slitted like a cat’s. 

_This_ is their real color. His warlock’s mark. I’ve seen them before, but always from a distance. He must expend magical energy constantly to keep them hidden. To hide them from _me_. 

What looks like fear and no small amount of self-loathing clouds his expression. The realization that he’s terrified of what I’ll say—that I’ll reject him—hits me like a blow. The knowledge is humbling… and makes me want to eviscerate every person in his past who’s had a part in making him feel this way. 

“Magnus.” I cup his cheek to keep him from turning away from me again. Stubble prickles the palm of my hand, grounding me. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

He smiles weakly and leans into my touch, raising his hand to grip my wrist. “Thank you, Alexander.” His voice is shaky. “You don’t need a reminder of what I am—”

“No, I don’t care _what_ you are,” I cut in vehemently, “because I know exactly _who_ you are.” I press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and stroke his cheek with my thumb. “It’s the truth, and I’ll tell you every day until you believe me. You never have to hide from me. I don’t care if you never glamour them again.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and the tension bleeds out of him. With a flick of his wrist, a wash of blue sparks spread across the room, dimming the lamps and bringing the candles scattered on every surface to life. The scent of roses and something earthier—and a little spicy—fills the room. 

When I reach for the hem of his shirt again, he doesn’t resist. In fact, he turns and helps me pull it over his head. He smirks when my eyes catch and linger on the shadows playing across the taut golden-brown skin of his bare chest, and I’m glad to see his earlier ease returning. “See something you like?” he asks, raising one dark eyebrow. 

“Yes, and I’d like to see more.” 

If he’s surprised by my brazenness, it doesn’t show. He laughs softly and traces his fingertips down my stomach to the button on my jeans, his silver rings glinting in the dim light. The muscles there jump in reaction, and my already aching erection pulses almost painfully against the confines of the denim.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, his voice husky and his eyes intense when they meet mine. 

Heat floods into my face, but I have to stop myself from pushing my hips up into his touch. “What do you think?”

“I think I never want to assume and possibly misstep.” He leans in, brushing a kiss over the strength rune on the swell of my bicep. “You’re too important to me.”

“Magnus,” I breathe, shivering with the intensity of the emotion that moves through me. “Yes, please. Take them off.”

I almost expect him to magic them off, but he does it the old fashioned way. He flicks open the button and draws the zipper down so slowly that each metallic click of the teeth goes through me like a dagger. I raise my hips so he can pull them, and the briefs underneath, down my thighs. There’s a brief flare of discomfort at being so exposed, but the heat in his gaze as he looks at me quickly overpowers it. His hands smooth over the exposed skin as he draws the denim down so deliberately that I’m shaking by the time he drops the remainder of my clothes on the floor next to the bed.

His eyes sweep back up my body, and he pauses to lick his lips when he reaches my cock. The sight of the pale pink tip of his tongue makes me twitch and a bead of moisture gathers at the slit. I fight down the urge to cover myself with my hands. I’ve never been naked in front of someone before, and certainly never when I’m hard and leaking and so turned on that a slight breeze will push me over the edge. 

“You’re breathtaking, Alexander,” he murmurs with obvious reverence in both his voice and gaze. No one ever says my name like he does. I’m almost always ‘Alec.’ Maryse and Robert Lightwood’s son, Izzy and Max’s brother, Jace’s parabatai. Barely even a person in my own right. But when Magnus says my name, I feel like he’s talking to the real me, the one no one else sees. 

He shifts to stretch out next to me, and there’s a noticeable bulge in the leather that clings to his legs. Just like the way he says my name, no one has ever looked at me like this before. Sure, Jace and the other Shadowhunters admire my body for what it can do, but the idea that something I’ve crafted into a weapon can garner such appreciation is foreign to me. Mimicking his movements, I run the back of my hand down his abs to the waistband of his pants. “Can I take these off?” I imitate, dipping my fingertips below the band just to feel his stomach contract.

His lips twitch but he nods gravely. “Yes, and I sincerely hope you do.”

I push him back so he’s lying flat on the bed and kneel over him. The hook closure comes undone easily and when I part the material, I can tell he’s not wearing anything underneath. My eyes widen in surprise.

“Really, Alexander,” he chuckles with a slight quirk of his lips, “these pants make my ass look amazing. It would be a shame to ruin the effect.”

I shake my head and continue peeling the leather down. I avert my eyes as I pull them over his hips and down his thighs with a lot less finesse than he’d shown. When he’s finally gloriously naked, I kneel back and look my fill. I’ve never seen another man naked before, not even Jace, and the sight is dizzying. His lean muscles are exquisitely sculpted, and the effect of that smooth perfection combined with the jut of his erect cock from the closely trimmed dark thatch of hair between his legs leaves my mouth dry. 

And myself a little ashamed of the less manicured state of my body hair.

As if reading my mind, Magnus narrows his eyes, the gold glinting in the candlelight. He reaches a hand out to me and draws me down so I’m laying on my side next to him. I shiver when he runs his fingers through the curls of dark hair covering my chest. I’ve always been self-conscious about the flawlessness of Jace’s nearly hairless chest compared to my own, but Magnus makes me forget that when he closes his grip around a handful of hair and tugs. The unexpected sensation draws a gasp out of me that is just as much pleasure as pain.

The slitted pupils of his eyes contract, and he releases his grip to continue trailing his fingers across my chest. He follows the path of his fingers with his mouth, his lips grazing the dark swirls of each rune. His necklaces pool on my stomach when he comes up onto his knees to lean over me, and his tongue flicks out to trace the outline of my parabatai rune. The unexpected eroticism of it catches me so off guard that a moan escapes before I can swallow it. 

He looks up at me, the gold of his eyes glinting through the fringe of his lashes. “It's okay to let me hear you. I want to know you’re enjoying what I’m doing.”

That, too, is a foreign concept. I’m not so innocent that I’ve never touched myself, but it’s always been a perfunctory exercise so burdened by shame that I barely let myself enjoy it. Whether in the shower or in the privacy of my own bed, the pleasure was always overshadowed by the irrational fear that anyone who heard me could figure out what—or who—I was fantasizing about. It was certainly never like this.

I swallow past the tightness in my throat and thread my fingers through his crazily spiked hair. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy anything you do.”

His expression turns serious. He sits back on his heels, the dark strands slipping through my fingers as he moves out of my reach. “That could be true, but it might not be. There may come a time when I do something you don’t like. You need to tell me if that happens.”

It doesn’t seem possible. “Whatever you want. Just being with you—”

“Alexander,” he says firmly, cutting me off with a tone that says I need to pay attention. “This isn’t only about what I want. It’s important to me to know that what we do makes you feel good, too.”

I can’t imagine Magnus doing anything that doesn’t make me feel good—just the brush of his fingers on my skin has me flying—but I nod dutifully. Although it makes no sense to me, I can give him that at least.

My nod must reassure him because he leans in again to capture my mouth with his. This time, patience is replaced by hunger. He deepens the kiss, parting my lips expertly, his tongue tangling with my own. I moan into his mouth at the feel of his cock pressing against my hip. 

Still controlling the kiss, he continues his exploration, pausing to elicit another moan by brushing his fingers over first one nipple and then the other. I arch my back, chasing the friction, and reach for him. “Magnus, please.” The words come out broken against his lips, and I’m not even sure what I’m begging for. This, more, anything. My body is on fire.

“I’m here, Alexander.” He dips his head to brush his lips across my neck, dipping his tongue into the hollow behind my ear before following his fingers down my chest with little sucking kisses and light nips with his teeth. Another moan escapes when his tongue swirls around one hard, sensitive nipple, and his lips curve against my skin. He looks up at me and runs his tongue across his lips again.“What do you want? Anything in my power to give you; it’s yours.” 

My cock throbs when he rolls his hips again, his erection sliding against my overheated skin. “You. Just you. Always you.” I reach to draw him back up, but he eludes my grasp by twisting to the side and lifting one leg over me. He settles back, straddling my hips. His grin is one part wicked and two parts aching sweetness. 

“Do you trust me?” he murmurs, his eyes gone dark again, the glamour back in place. For a moment, I’m disappointed, but then he wraps his hand around my shaft and drags his grip upward over the length, and I forget how to feel anything else.

I blink my eyes to clear the white-hot stars from in front of them and manage to get out, “You know I do.”

The sweetness in his smile increases to three parts, the wickedness just a tease in the crinkles around his eyes. “We haven’t really talked about this—or anything, really—but I’ve been imagining you inside me for weeks.” When my eyes widen at his words, he rushes to continue, “But we don’t have to. We can just touch tonight. Anything you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to rush you.”

His rambling would be cute if I wasn’t about to die from a combination of lust and embarrassment. I know, rationally, how two men have sex—it isn’t that hard to figure out—but I’ve been too wrapped up in the idea of doing it to think about the actual logistics. If the way my brain is stuck on the image his words conjured up is any indication, though, I’m definitely interested.

“You’re not. I—yes, I do. I mean, I want that. But—” I stop and swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut to give myself a reprieve from the vision of his naked body on top of me. When I open them again, the sight of all that skin is still just as shocking. “I don’t know how. To do that, I mean.” 

He smiles, his expression softening. “I can show you,” he murmurs. He strokes his hands up my chest and leans down to cup my cheeks, his mouth meeting mine again. He kisses me gently but thoroughly. When he sits back, his eyes have gone gold again and his breath is ragged. He makes a sweeping gesture and several items appear in his hand. 

“Mortal diseases can’t infect a warlock, and I know you’ve never…” He trails off, and I follow his gaze to the foil-wrapped square in his palm. “But we can use it if you want. I want you to be comfortable.” 

I push past the static in my brain to parse his words. It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s asking me if I want to use a condom when we… when I’m inside him. My mouth goes dry and I swallow hard. I know we should—Jace’s previously irrelevant safe-sex lectures have been clear about that—but the intimacy of having nothing between us is too tempting. I take the condom from him and place it on the nightstand beside the bed. “I trust you,” I say simply. 

The heat returns to his eyes. All that’s left in his hand is a squat, dark glass bottle with an old fashioned swing-top lid. He flips the metal arm and a sharp, spicy scent fills the room. It’s lush and sensuous but unfamiliar. 

“That smells good,” I say, watching him drizzle a thin stream of oil from the bottle into the palm of his other hand before replacing the stopper and resting it on the bed against my hip. 

“It will feel even better.” Before I can process his intention, he wraps his hand around me. 

The warm, slick glide from the oil makes the sensation even better when he slides his hand up and down my shaft a few times. Sparks rush across my nerve endings, emanating out from where he’s touching me and it feels like flying. Better than the euphoria of my first rune ceremony, more intimate than even the surge of exhilaration that came with the parabatai bond. He rolls his palm up over the head, spreading the oil that will help ease my way inside his body, and I have to slam my eyes shut and mentally run through the series of katas Hodge made us memorize just to keep from ending this whole encounter way too quickly.

I keep my eyes screwed shut and focus on steadying my breathing while he continues to stroke me, a very unmanly mewl building in the back of my throat. The tinkle of metal against glass and the pop of the bottle stopper opening again mixes with the sound of my uneven breaths. He leans up onto his knees, shifting his weight off of me, and by the time I have control of myself enough to open my eyes, he’s closing the bottle again and wiping his hand on the sheets next to my hip. 

“Ah,” he says with a small, affectionate smile. “There you are.” One at a time, he untangles my hands from where they’re clutching the sheets for dear life and places them on his thighs. The muscles bunch then elongate under my fingers when he rises up to his knees. He guides me where he wants me as he bends his legs again.

I bite back a curse at the pressure on the head of my cock as he continues to lower himself. For one long moment, the pressure intensifies until I almost cry out, then I slip past the resistance, the first two or three inches buried inside him. His body is an inferno around me.

Magnus lets out a long, shuddering breath, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. Beads of sweat glisten on the column of his throat. The sound he makes when he drops a little lower, more of my cock lodging inside him, borders on pain, and my hands instantly find his hips to stop him.

“It’s okay, Alexander. The stretch feels good.”

His words send a jolt through me. “Magnus,” I whisper, my eyes locked on his rapturous expression, even though I’m not sure what I’m trying to say. It’s _me_ making him feel this way, bringing the flush to his cheeks and the sheen to his skin. 

He continues to move until I’m fully sheathed inside him and stops. Just holding himself there, panting slightly. His cat eyes seem to glow with an internal light, and he smiles warmly as he dips forward to brush a kiss across my mouth. “Breathe, Alexander,” he murmurs, dropping another kiss at the corner of my lips before straightening up. “If you pass out from lack of oxygen, I’m going to be very cross.”

I sputter a laugh and release the breath I was holding in a long, barely controlled exhale. This feels so good, and I don’t just mean the sex. The humor, the companionship, the intimacy. Better than I could have ever imagined. Better than I ever _dared_ to imagine. For the first time, I really understand what Magnus meant when he said I would be dooming both Lydia and myself to a lifetime of loneliness if I went through with the wedding. I could never have had this with her.

“Are you ready?” he asks, shifting his hips a little so I can feel myself moving inside him. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

His grin is contagious. “I am always ready.” 

And with that, he begins to move. Slowly at first, flexing his legs to raise and lower himself so my entire length slides in and out with mind-numbing precision, and then gradually faster. He takes my hands as he does, bringing them up from his thighs to encircle his waist. “Touch me, Alexander.”

As if his words unleash something inside me, I suddenly can’t _stop_ touching him. My hands skate over his skin, warm and soft under my palms. I grip his hips, guiding the motion of his body faster and deeper. My hips begin to rock, matching the rhythm of his body in a way that sends bolts of pleasure shooting up my spine with each thrust. 

Satisfied with the rhythm, I slide my hands up farther. I run the pads of my thumbs over first one nipple then the other. When his head falls back with a groan, I flick them both at the same time. His body clenches around me and my hips lose the rhythm for a moment. 

Magnus takes that opportunity to lean forward, his mouth covering mine. He continues to rock his hips, but now it’s more of a back and forth motion than up and down. The change in the angle puts all the pressure on the underside of my cock, the slick drag of his body pressing against that spot just under the head that brings stars to my eyes. He kisses me deeply and my hands go around his neck to hold him there. We rock together, moving like one body as the flames inside me stoke to an inferno.

My lips slip from his and graze across his jaw until my face is buried in his neck. I cling to him, my body moving almost of its own accord. Pleasure coils like a spring inside me, a band stretching tighter and tighter with each minute movement. I want to hold on, to bring him over the edge with me, but the crest of the wave is approaching too fast. “Magnus,” I breathe against the sandalwood scented skin at the crook of his neck. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

His lips brush over my temple. “It’s okay, Alexander. I want to feel you. Let go.” He straightens again, his body an elegant line of golden skin in the candlelight. My hands go immediately to his hips as he moves faster, sending me barrelling toward release.

The band pulls taut and for one long moment, I’m caught at the brink of an intimidating ledge. Magnus’ expression is terrifyingly open, his cat eyes shining with intense emotion. 

Then the wave crashes over me. I cry out and my back arches as white-hot fire spears across every nerve ending. Magnus continues to move, coaxing every last bit of pleasure my body can produce out of me as I pulse inside him. Blood rushes in my ears and my entire consciousness is reduced to nothing but Magnus. 

It takes several moments for my breathing to slow and for my fingers and toes to stop tingling. When I finally open my eyes, Magnus is watching me intently. He’s still rocking back and forth, but the movements are slower, controlled. “By the Angel,” I breathe. “I never imagined.”

A smile slowly spreads until it encompasses Magnus’ entire expression. “Breathtaking,” he says. “I could watch you like that, lost in pleasure, on an endless loop.”

My cheeks heat. He’s still hard, his cock leaving streaks of fluid on my stomach where it rubs against me with each shift of his hips. My eyes widen. “Oh, you didn’t—”

“I’m about to,” he cuts in, one hand wrapping around himself. His hand slides up and down, twisting across the head, and I watch for a few strokes before batting his hand away and taking over. I’m still half-hard inside him and when he starts to rock his hips again, my body begins to respond. 

He’s gorgeous like this, with his head thrown back and his body straining. Blue sparks dance around us, the glow making his skin sparkle. With one last moan, his entire body goes rigid and he starts to pulse around me. His release coats my hand and my stomach, hot and slick on my skin, and his magic rushes outward in a flare of power. Most of the candles flicker a few times and go out. 

Magnus slumps forward with a delighted laugh, his forehead resting against my shoulder and his rapid breaths wafting against my skin. His heart is racing so fast I can feel it. “Well,” he says with another chuckle. “I’d say that was a success.”

A success? Definitely. More like a revelation, if I’m being honest. 

I brush my hand down the curve of his back and he pushes into my touch like a cat. When he turns to look at me, his slitted eyes are full of mirth. “I expect you to start purring any moment,” I point out. 

“What can I say? You have that effect on me.” He stretches and rolls off me, landing in an undignified sprawl next to me. His gaze roams over my face, and he must be reassured by what he sees because he smiles again. 

He raises one hand almost lazily and completes a complicated gesture. A wash of blue that makes my skin tingle washes over me, and the mess on my stomach and hand disappears. He snuggles up to my side, his head on my shoulder, and the blankets that ended up on the floor slide up over us. 

“Convenient.”

His lips twist into a self-satisfied smirk. “Warlock,” he says, running one hand up through his wild hair. 

I hold him there against me, one hand covering his where it splays across my chest and the other resting in the small of his back. A kind of contentment I never thought I’d feel settles around me. After a few moments, I whisper, “I never said thank you.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “You certainly don’t need to thank me for that, Alexander. It was my pleasure… entirely.”

“Not for that,” I return with a huff, even though I really do feel like I should be thanking him for what we just did. “For stopping my wedding. No matter how hard I tried to push you away, you never gave up on me. I owe you everything.”

He tilts his head to look up at me. “You don’t owe me anything. It was equal parts selfishness.”

“Well,” I say, kissing his forehead, “then thank you for being selfish.”

He tucks his face against me again and inhales deeply. “Goodnight, Alexander,” he murmurs, sleep already lacing his words and making his voice thick. His lips brush my chest as he speaks. 

I tense and think about the cold and lonely walk back to the Institute to an even colder and lonelier bed. Then I think about waking up with Magnus in my arms, his body warm against me. It’s no competition. The tension bleeds out of me and I smile. 

“Goodnight, Magnus.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same story as the first chapter, but from Magnus' POV. 
> 
> I am apparently easily encouraged by comments! Lol.

Nothing but the sound of the ticking clock and the traffic below breaks the silence. The apartment feels abandoned. I’ve been alone for nearly a century, but just a few weeks of having Alec—and then Jace—in my space, and even a few hours of solitude is unnerving.

A drink is just what I need to take the edge off, and then maybe I’ll catch up on those translations I’ve been promising Catarina. It isn’t as if I don’t know how to be alone. I have centuries of practice at filling my own time. I don’t need to sit around pining like a lovesick fool just because Alec is busy with Institute business tonight.

After preparing and taking a few sips of my cocktail, I go to get the translations I’ve been slogging through for months. It is only for Catarina that I’m putting in as much effort as I am. While healing magic may come in handy, it isn’t my forte. As I cross toward my workroom, a series of three sharp raps echoes through the apartment. I have no appointments scheduled, but my life has been a lot busier with drop-in emergencies since I got tangled up with Shadowhunters again. Maybe one of them is bleeding all over the antique Persian rug in the hallway right now.

With a sigh, I shift directions and head to the door. It swings open and instead of a half-dead werewolf or a slightly singed Nephilim, I’m both surprised and pleased to find Alec in the hallway. He’s still wearing the dark jeans and shirt he had on when I saw him earlier, looking frazzled but unharmed.

“Hey,” I say, a smile spreading across my face without my permission. It’s become a natural reaction to seeing Alec, one I’m not sure how to curtail—or even if it’s worth doing. 

My smile quickly fades to puzzlement when he pushes past me without returning the greeting. He slips off his jacket and folds it across the low cabinet behind the door before looking around. The swirl of anxious anticipation I haven’t seen since our first few dates fills the air around him. “Jace here?” he asks, eyes darting restlessly around the room as if I’m hiding Jace in one of the sideboards. 

“No. He left hours ago.” Worry draws out a frown. “Are you okay?”

With no warning, Alec dives forward and cups my face in hands that tremble slightly. He presses his lips to mine, soft and warm as always, and I respond instinctively, immediately kissing back. While I’m normally all for kissing Alec—we’ve spent hours in the past few weeks in all manner of oral exploration—there’s a manic desperation to his approach that is troubling. He immediately tries to pry my lips open with his tongue—nothing like the sweetly eager Alec I’m used to.

I pull away with an uncomfortable laugh, my hands coming up to his chest to hold him back. His heart races under my palm. “Hey, what’s this all about? I mean, I’m not complaining, but—” 

Color floods to his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away. Always courageous, my Alec. “I–I just thought, you know, I thought we could take the next step.” 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ There’s both a thrill in my blood and a sudden panic of my own. “The sex step.”

“Yeah.”

“Alexander.” I sigh and smooth my hands over his chest, needing the contact to remind me why we shouldn’t rush into this. Not every person who has shared my bed has been a lover in reality. Most were a way to pass the long expenses of loneliness, but it is only the few who mattered that I remember. I’m finding that I don’t want to be an experiment for Alec, just a willing partner to explore his burgeoning sexuality before he moves on to someone he can spend his life with. I want him to be one I remember. “I may be experienced, but it’s rare that I’ve ever felt this way about someone and… I worry that once we—” 

I turn away from his confusion, afraid he’ll see something in my face that he misinterprets. A rejection where there is only caution borne out of my growing feelings for him. “That if we rush into this”—I turn to face him again and his pained expression makes it clear that I’m not explaining myself well at all—“that I may lose you.”

“What? Why would you think that?” 

“Look,” I say, searching his face for whatever prompted this sudden interest, “you’re not the only one that feels vulnerable.” I don’t think I would survive experiencing that connection with Alec and then having him walk away.

I’m not sure what I said, but the tension bleeds out of Alec’s shoulders. “Magnus,” he says, taking a step toward me, “you have nothing to worry about. I want this.” 

This time, when his mouth meets mine, the unsettling desperation is gone. His kiss is gentle and sweet, quintessential Alec. Not hesitant, but also not so uncharacteristically aggressive. The shift in him back to the Alec I’ve been slowly falling for draws out a smile, and when he crowds into my space, I raise my hands again to grip his biceps rather than push him away. I can only deny what I want for so long. If this turns out to be a mistake, I’ll have to live with the consequences.

He begins to guide me backward into my bedroom, and I cling to him. His skin is warm, with just the barest rasp of the beginning of stubble against my palms when I cup his face. We stumble into the room, laughing and kissing, and he shoves the door shut behind us. Alec has only been in my bedroom a handful of times, sleeping there on a few notable occasions. As hard as I’m trying not to fall too fast, I’m already addicted to the scent of him on my pillows. 

Halfway between the door and the bed, Alec reaches down to push off his boots and nearly loses his balance. I laugh, catching his arms to hold him steady, and he reflects my smile back at me. The simple happiness he radiates with every step is breathtaking… and a little humbling. 

Once his boots are off, I trail my lips across his cheekbone—the faint tang of salt against my tongue—and tug at the neck of his t-shirt. The anticipation of his bare skin under my hands makes me clumsy. He quickly pulls it over his head and goes to work shoving my jacket off my shoulders.

The bed stretches out behind me, the blankets rumpled. I cup his face in my hands and fall, dragging him down with me. Somehow, though, he twists and lands on his back, my weight cradled between his spread thighs. 

“That was graceful.” 

“Shadowhunter,” he responds with a smirk. 

We’ve spent hours making out in the past few weeks, and I was in a constant state of arousal for most of that time. The temptation to push for more has always been there, like a potent elixir in my blood, but I wanted to respect Alec’s boundaries, to build something with him that would last. This is the first time I’ve been in a position to feel how his body responds to my touch, and it was definitely worth the wait. I lean over him, pressing my hips into the juncture of his thighs, and I’m rewarded with the hard length of his arousal sliding against my own aching cock. “Oh—”

He cuts me off by wrapping his hands around the back of my neck and pulling me down to him. I go willingly, sinking into him, and run my tongue across the seam of his lips. Rolling my hips again, I let the waves of pleasure crash over me. The aching emptiness inside me swells to a crescendo of need. 

Still undoing every one of my defenses with the sweetness of his kisses, Alec’s hands slip down to find the hem of my shirt. The fabric bunches as he pushes it up until his fingers skim my bare skin, and I draw in a sharp breath against his lips. Magic sizzles through my veins, scorching my nerve endings with flames. He traces his fingertips over the bumps of my ribs, pushing the shirt higher, and the feel of his bare stomach against my skin sends sparks shooting through me.

For a moment, the sensation overloads my system and something that almost never happens takes me by surprise. I lose control of my magic. An electric current of energy pulses under my skin, and the glamour over my eyes crumbles like sand washed away by high tide.

I bring up one hand to pinch the bridge of my nose as I jerk away. Turning away to block his gaze, I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s ridiculous. Alec has seen my slitted eyes before, and I’m not ashamed of them. Yes, they mark me as a Warlock—as Asmodeus’ son—but they’re an irrefutable part of me. But to have the glamour fail along with my control is unnerving. 

Alec inhales sharply, anxiety coloring his words. “What? Am I doing something wrong?”

I make a dismissive gesture. The idea that generous, considerate Alec could ever do something wrong in bed seems ludicrous. “No such thing.” But I don’t turn around.

“Well…” The bed rocks as Alec sits up. “What—do you not want to?”

“No. I mean, yes. Of course, I do.” More than anything. I just need to get myself under control. 

“Magnus, what is it?” 

The weight of Alec’s hand on my back grounds me, but I can’t seem to wrest back control of my magic. The fear in his voice is gut-wrenching. I can’t allow him to think he’s done anything wrong.

“It’s just, sometimes… I lose control.” I turn, letting him see me. 

Alec stares at me, confusion evident on his face, and I wait with bated breath for him to move away from me, for the reminder that he’s in bed with a Warlock to sink in. He’s allowing a Downworlder—part demon, unclean—to touch him. 

My heart sits firmly in my throat for one long moment, and then his lips slowly curl and his eyes alight with wonder. “Magnus.” He cups my cheek and stares into my eyes with a small smile still playing around the corner of his mouth. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Alexander.” My voice is shaky with relief. Apparently, the wounds of the past are fresher than I expected. “You don’t need a reminder of what I am—”

“No, I don’t care  _ what  _ you are,” he cuts in vehemently, “because I know exactly  _ who _ you are.” He presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “It’s the truth, and I’ll tell you every day until you believe me. You never have to hide from me. I don’t care if you never glamour them again.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath and the tension bleeds out of me. Once again, he surprises me. Lays bare all my weaknesses and soothes them with his simple earnestness. The undulating currents of power inside me stabilize, and with a flick of my wrist, a wash of blue sparks spread across the room, dimming the lamps and bringing the candles scattered on every surface to life. The scent of roses and cardamom fills the room. 

When he reaches for the hem of my shirt again, I don’t resist. I turn back to him, like a flower turning to face the sun, and help him pull the fabric over my head. His eyes catch and linger on my bare chest, and I smirk. I know Alec finds me attractive, but the proof of it is heartening. “See something you like?” I ask, raising one eyebrow. 

“Yes, and I’d like to see more.” 

Alec’s brazenness, his ability to say plainly things other people dissemble over, will never stop being a source of delight. I laugh softly and trace my fingertips down his pale, sculpted stomach to the button on his jeans. His skin is warm and smooth, and the muscles there jump in reaction to my touch. “Can I take these off?” 

His cheeks flush, visible even in the wavering candlelight, and his body vibrates its approval. “What do you think?”

“I think I never want to assume and possibly misstep.” I lean in, brushing a kiss over the strength rune on the swell of his bicep. It seems redundant. Alec’s strength comes from within, not from any angelic power. “You’re too important to me.”

“Magnus,” he breathes, the delicate shivering intensifying. “Yes, please. Take them off.”

Part of me wants to magic them off, to speed things along to their inevitable and hopefully mutually satisfying conclusion, but a bigger part wants to take my time. To unwrap Alec like an exquisite gift created just for me. 

I flick open the button and draw the zipper down, each tooth catching with a soft metallic click. Once the material is parted over the swell of his erection, he raises his hips so I can pull them down. I hook the tight, silky briefs underneath with my fingers and slowly draw both articles down his thighs. My hands smooth over the exposed skin, deliberately skirting around his rigid cock, and the hair on his legs rasps against my palms. By the time I drop the remainder of his clothes on the floor next to the bed, his fine trembling has increased to a full-body shudder.

I sweep my eyes back up his gorgeous body, pausing to study his cock. It’s thick and flushed with blood, perfectly proportioned and just as impressive as the rest of him. I lick my lips, thinking about the noises he might make if I put my mouth on him, and a bead of moisture gathers at the slit. My cock pulses in response and I’m suddenly regretting donning these incredibly fashionable—but indecently tight—pants. 

“You’re breathtaking, Alexander,” I murmur, itching to feel all that bare skin against me. I shift to stretch out next to him. My pants constrict my cock uncomfortably, but I want to give him a chance to get used to being unclothed before I rush to join him. 

His eyes are wide, the iris an iridescent ring around his blown out pupils. Mimicking my movement, he runs the back of his hand down my bare stomach to the waistband of my pants. “Can I take these off?” he imitates, dipping his fingertips below the band. My muscles contract and my body practically screams its consent.

Fighting back my response, my lips twitch as I nod with as much dignity as I can muster. “Yes, and I sincerely hope you do.”

He pushes me back so I’m lying flat on the bed and rises to his knees over me. The candlelight plays over the swell of his muscles and paints the valleys with shadows. The view is enchanting. When he opens the hook closure on my pants and parts the material, his eyes widen and dart to my face.

“Really, Alexander,” I chuckle with a slight quirk of my lips, “these pants make my ass look amazing. It would be a shame to ruin the effect.” The blush that covers his cheeks is adorable.

He looks like he’s trying to decide how to respond, then only shakes his head before continuing to peel the leather down. He averts his eyes as he pulls them over my hips, but once I’m naked, he sits back on his heels and studies me. I try not to squirm as his eyes travel over my body like a caress. I can see the moment his nerves start to resurface, and I reach for him. Rolling onto my side, I draw him down so that he’s facing me, our feet tangled together. 

I extend my hand, telegraphing my intention, but he only shivers when I comb my fingers through the curls of dark hair covering his chest. I’ve always found body hair on a male partner to be particularly alluring, a contrast to my own practically bare skin. I close my grip around a handful of hair and tug gently, and Alec gasps a response that clearly has nothing to do with pain.  _ Interesting _ . I catalog his reaction and move on.

The route my fingers take across his chest connects the various dark symbols etched onto his skin. I lean in, following the path of my fingers with my mouth. My lips graze the shapes, his skin tasting of salt and soap and something so distinctly Alec that I wish I could bottle it so I never forget. I come up onto my knees so I can lean over him, and when I trace the outline of his parabatai rune with my tongue, a breathy moan escapes before he cuts it off. 

I turn my head to look up at him through the fringe of my lashes. “It’s okay to let me hear you. I want to know you’re enjoying what I’m doing.”

His throat works as he swallows hard, one hand coming up to thread through my hair. I press into the touch like a starving man being offered sustenance for the first time in weeks. 

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy anything you do,” he says, his voice slurred with lust.

A tremor of uneasiness goes through me. I sit back on my heels, his fingers slipping through my hair as I move out of his reach. “That could be true, but it might not be. There may come a time when I do something you don’t like. You need to tell me if that happens.”

“Whatever you want. Just being with you—”

“Alexander,” I say firmly. An imbalance in power has derailed too many relationships in the past. I refuse to take advantage of his innocence. The thought that he might not tell me if I hurt him or do something he doesn’t like because he wants to please me is revolting. “This isn’t only about what I want. It’s important to me to know that what we do makes you feel good, too.”

It’s clear from the confusion in his eyes that he still doesn’t quite understand what I’m saying, but he nods dutifully. It’s not enough to allay my fears, but it will have to do for now. I resolve to be extra attentive to his reactions and to continue to encourage him to be open and honest with me about his desires. 

I lean in again to capture his mouth, letting some of my hunger take the kiss from sweet to passionate. Hunger for him, for his touch, but also for the swell of emotion he evokes in me. I deepen the kiss, parting his lips with my tongue, and delve into his mouth. My cock pulses against his hip at the imitation of fucking, and his throat vibrates with a deep moan that becomes a reverb loop for my own lust. 

Still controlling the kiss, I let my hands continue the exploration. I pause to elicit another moan by brushing my fingers over first one nipple and then the other. He arches his back, pushing into the sensation, and reaches for me. “Magnus, please.” The words come out broken against my lips.

“I’m here, Alexander.” I dip my head to brush my lips across his neck, dipping my tongue into the warm hollow behind his ear before following my fingers down his chest with little sucking kisses and light nips. Another moan escapes when my tongue swirls around one hard, sensitive nipple, and my lips curve against his skin. I look up at him and run my tongue across my lips again, chasing the taste of him. “What do you want? Anything in my power to give you; it’s yours.” I roll my hips again, my cock sliding against his overheated skin. 

“You. Just you. Always you.” He reaches to draw me back up, but I elude his grasp by twisting to the side and lifting one leg over him. I settle back, straddling his hips, and grin at him wickedly. The heat of him pressing between my spread legs is divine.

“Do you trust me?” I murmur. My magic wraps around me and the glamour over my eyes, practically unconscious by this point, snaps back into place. I wrap my hand around his shaft, the skin an inferno against my palm, and drag my grip upward over the length. His body goes rigid, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

He blinks a few times and smiles sweetly. “You know I do.”

Given that he is spread out under me, naked in more ways than one, I know he trusts me, but I’m still touched by the lack of guile in his words. It’s a huge responsibility. “We haven’t really talked about this—or anything, really—but I’ve been imagining you inside me for weeks.” His eyes widen, and I panic, afraid that I’ve shocked him or pushed too far. I don’t even know that Alec is interested in that kind of sex. Maybe he isn’t ready, or maybe it’s not something he will ever want. “But we don’t have to. We can just touch tonight. Anything you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to rush you.”

“You’re not. I—yes, I do. I mean, I want that. But—” He stops and swallows hard, and my racing pulse slows again with relief. He squeezes his eyes shut and I count my heartbeats until he opens them again. “I don’t know how,” he whispers as if it’s a secret, the tips of his ears turning red. “To do that, I mean.” 

My heart swells with a wild protectiveness that tells me any attempts I’ve made to not fall for this man were in vain. I smile fondly and murmur, “I can show you.” I stroke my hands up his chest and lean down to cup his face, my mouth meeting his in a gentle but thorough kiss. When I sit back, my breathing is as ragged as his, and I pull down the glamour again, trusting him with everything that I am. I sweep my hand through the air, blue sparks crackling, and a pot of oil and a condom appear in my palm.

“Mortal diseases can’t infect a warlock, and I know you’ve never…” I trail off, and he follows my gaze to the foil-wrapped square in my palm. I can’t deny that the thought of him inside me with nothing between us is enticing, but I won’t pressure him. I know I should be encouraging safe sex practices, but the thought of Alec doing this with anyone else for whom that will be an issue is like a blade to my heart. It won’t kill me, but it really fucking hurts. “But we can use it if you want. I want you to be comfortable.” 

He stares at the condom and doesn’t answer for so long that I’m almost afraid I’ve broken him this time. Finally, he swallows hard and reaches out to take the condom from me. He places it on the nightstand beside the bed and says simply, “I trust you.” 

I’m not ready for the jolt of arousal that spears through me. All that’s left in my hand is the squat, dark glass bottle with an old-fashioned swing-top lid. I flip the metal arm and the sharp, spicy scent of ginger and neroli fills the room. One of my personal concoctions.

“That smells good,” he says, his eyes trained on the thin stream of oil I drizzle from the bottle into the palm of my other hand. I flick the stopper closed one-handed and rest it on the bed against his hip. 

“It will feel even better.” I wrap my hand around his shaft, the oil warming against his skin and slicking the way when I slide my hand up and down his length a few times. I keep my eyes trained on his face, studying his reactions like I’m taking a graduate course in Alexander Gideon Lightwood. I intend to earn the highest marks. 

I roll my palm up over the head, spreading the oil that will help ease his way inside my body, and he slams his eyes shut. A fine sheen of sweat breaks out over his heaving chest, and his hips move to thrust his cock through my fist. A tremor starts in his tense muscles, and a soft keening sound builds in the back of his throat. 

His response is so carnal that I’m loath to stop touching him, but my own body is protesting the lack of attention. He doesn’t open his eyes when I release him to pick up the bottle again. I coat my fingers with another few drops of oil and shift to prepare myself. The touch of my slippery fingers against my hole makes me clench in anticipation of what is to come. By the time Alec opens his eyes again, I’m as close to ready as I’ll ever be. My body is, at any rate. I don’t know if my heart will ever be ready. I close the bottle again and wipe my hand on the sheets next to his hip. 

“Ah,” I say with a small, affectionate smile. “There you are.” One at a time, I untangle his hands from where they’re clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles are white and place them on my thighs. His hands are warm, the palms and fingers rough with callouses from his weapons. 

I rise onto my knees and take him in hand again, guiding his cock until it presses against my opening. Keeping my eyes on his face, I slowly bend my legs. Alec bites his lower lip as the pressure increases, and I focus on relaxing around him. This first part, the burn and stretch of accepting another person inside my body, is always intense, but there’s something even more overwhelming about knowing it is Alec filling me.

When the resistance of my body finally relents to allow Alec to slip inside, I throw my head back and close my eyes. My entire awareness is on the feel of him inside me, and I let out a long, shuddering breath. His hands tighten on my thighs as I shift to take a little more and the force of the way he spreads me open punches a small noise from my throat.

His hands instantly move to my hips, his eyes wide with apprehension. 

“It’s okay, Alexander,” I reassure him. “The stretch feels good.”

He whispers my name, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so beautiful on anyone’s lips. Once he’s fully sheathed inside me, I stop to allow us both a moment to adjust. I let my breathing slow, focusing on the exquisite fullness inside me, and realize that Alec is holding his breath. Dipping forward, I brush a kiss across his mouth. “Breathe, Alexander,” I murmur, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips before straightening up. “If you pass out from lack of oxygen, I’m going to be very cross.”

With a sputtered laugh, he releases the breath he was holding in a long, barely controlled exhale. His eyes are wide, a light flush spreading from his cheeks down his chest. He shifts his hips a little, and I can feel him moving inside me.

“Are you ready?”

He narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I am always ready.” 

With a grin, I begin to move. Slowly at first, flexing my legs to raise and lower myself so his entire length slides in and out with mind-numbing precision, and then gradually faster. I take his hands, bringing them up from my thighs to encircle my waist. “Touch me, Alexander.”

All that Shadowhunter training comes in handy because Alec is  _ very _ good at following directions. His hands skate over my skin, the scrape of his callouses adding another layer of sensation. He grips my hips, guiding the motion of my body faster and deeper, and his hips begin to rock to match my rhythm. Every thrust fans the flames of the conflagration inside me higher.

He slides his hands up farther, running the pads of his thumbs over first one nipple then the other. When I let my head fall back with a groan, he flicks them both at the same time. My body automatically clenches around him and his hips lose their rhythm for a moment. 

I take that opportunity to lean forward, covering his mouth with mine. From this position, the motion shifts from up and down to back and forth, and every movement presses his cock against that spot inside me that brings stars to my eyes. Pleasure coils in my gut, skating up and down my spine with each thrust. I kiss him deeply and his hands go around the back of my head to hold me there. We rock together, moving like one body.

His lips slip from mine and graze across my jaw until his face is buried in my shoulder. He clings to me, pleasure ratcheting higher and higher with each stuttered movement. “Magnus,” he breathes, hot and wet against the skin at the crook of my neck. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

I can feel the strain in his body, driving him closer and closer to the edge. My lips brush over his temple. “It’s okay, Alexander. I want to feel you. Let go.” I straighten again and his hands immediately grip my hips as I speed up my movements. Safeguarding the raw emotion on his face is a terrifying obligation.

It doesn’t take much longer for Alec to cry out, his back arching and shock waves coursing through his body. I continue to move, drawing out his pleasure as he pulses his release inside me. I’m right on the edge of the same crest, but no matter how hard I try to get there from nothing but the power of Alec’s orgasm, I can’t quite reach the precipice.

After several moments, his breathing slows and he opens his eyes. He looks stunned and absolutely debauched. “By the Angel,” he breathes with a gasp. “I never imagined.”

There is such joy shining from his expression that I can imagine him as radiant as the Angel whose blood runs in his veins. “Breathtaking,” I say, though words offer a pathetic portrayal of his beauty. “I could watch you like that, lost in pleasure, on an endless loop.”

His cheeks color, and I’m amazed blood can still rush to his face. I continue to rock back and forth even as he begins to soften inside me, and his eyes widen as he looks down to where we’re still joined. “Oh, you didn’t—”

“I’m about to,” I assure him, wrapping one hand around my still hard shaft. His stomach is shiny with the fluid leaking from the slit, and the moisture eases the way. I slide my hand up and down, twisting across the head and squeezing on the upstroke with long-practiced ease. His body starts to respond to my movements, stiffening inside me again. Ah, the bounty of youth. 

Alec watches for a few strokes, studying my technique like one of his mission plans, before batting my hand away and taking over. I throw my head back and give myself over to him. Magic sings in my veins like fire, coiling tighter and tighter with each drag of his calloused fingers over the head of my cock. 

I open my eyes to see blue sparks dancing around us, the glow bathing Alec’s face in sparkling sapphire. The adoration I see there is all I need to push me over the edge. With one last moan, my entire body goes rigid and I start to pulse around him. My release coats his hand and stomach, and my magic rushes outward in a flare of power that leaves me breathless. I pull it back at the last moment, keeping it contained to the room, and most of the candles flicker and go out. 

Dizzy with elation, I slump forward with a delighted laugh. My forehead rests against Alec’s shoulder while I wait for my racing heart to slow. “Well,” I say with another chuckle. “I’d say that was a success.”

He brushes one hand down the curve of my back, and I push into the touch with a long, languid stretch. When I look up at him, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I expect you to start purring any moment.”

“What can I say? You have that effect on me.” I stretch again and roll sideways to land in an undignified sprawl next to him, flinching a little as he slips out of my body. Afraid that he’s hiding regrets, I study his face for a long moment. But no. He’s even more disarmingly open and relaxed than he was before. He also looks quite pleased with himself, as well he should.

I flutter one hand up and send out one of the first spells I ever learned. A wash of blue spreads over us, and the mess on his stomach and hand disappears. I snuggle up to his side, my head on his chest, and the blankets slide up over us. 

“Convenient.”

My lips twist into a self-satisfied smirk. “Warlock,” I say casually, running one hand up through my hair. If the disarray of Alec’s hair is any indication, whatever fashionable tousle I had before probably now resembles a bird’s nest. I suppose one must sacrifice at times.

He holds me against him, one hand covering mine where it splays across his chest and the other resting in the small of my back. Sex is easy, and if it’s done well, it should be fun for everyone involved. I’ve had countless meaningless encounters that passed the time while leaving no mark on my heart. But there’s nothing easy about sex with Alec. There are laughter and joy, but it’s all-consuming and terrifying and one of the most intensely gratifying things I’ve experienced in my very long life.

I let myself float in the peaceful bliss of knowing I’m safe in his arms. After a few moments, when I’m sure he’s nearly asleep, he whispers, “I never said thank you.”

My lips quirk into a smile. “You certainly don’t need to thank me for that, Alexander. It was my pleasure… entirely.”

“Not for that,” he returns with a huff, and I swallow a chuckle. He’s so  _ easy _ to tease. “For stopping my wedding. No matter how hard I tried to push you away, you never gave up on me. I owe you everything.”

My heart clenches at how close we came to never having the chance at this. I tilt my head to look up at him. “You don’t owe me anything. It was equal parts selfishness.”

“Well,” he says, kissing my forehead, “then thank you for being selfish.”

If this is what selfishness gets me, it’s going to be a very hard habit to break. I tuck my face against his chest again and inhale the calming scent of him. “Goodnight, Alexander,” I murmur, sleep already lacing my words and making my voice thick. My lips brush his chest in a sleepy kiss. 

He tenses, silent for a long moment, and I’m sure he’s about to dart out of bed and fling himself back into the cold embrace of his duty. I hold my breath and silently will him to stay with me, to let the Clave fend for themselves for one night, to take the refuge I’m offering. The Institute and his role in the war against demons will still be there in the morning.

After much too long, he lets out a long breath, and the tension bleeds out of him. He tightens his arms around me and there’s a smile in his voice when he says, “Goodnight, Magnus.” 


End file.
